


build a pearl around

by coricomile



Series: The Dislocated Room - Winterhawk Week 2015 [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Winterhawk Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 19:20:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4888936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coricomile/pseuds/coricomile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I need your dick and more sleep," Clint says. He kicks his heels against Bucky's thighs and bites at his throat. His skin is salty, and he really does need a shower, but Clint's been celibate for two weeks and it feels wrong not to at least try for sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	build a pearl around

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [В домике](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13764630) by [Riru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riru/pseuds/Riru), [WTF_Marvel_Trash_Party_2018](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WTF_Marvel_Trash_Party_2018/pseuds/WTF_Marvel_Trash_Party_2018)



> Day Eight: Pleasure

The smell of coffee wakes him up. Clint flops one hand out from his blanket cocoon and gropes for his hearing aids. He's hoping that the coffee means that Bucky's home and not that the tracksuit vampires have broken in to steal his stash. He fits his aids in, wraps a sheet around his shoulders, and shuffles out to the kitchen. Lucky looks up at him from his spot on the living room floor, barks once, and goes back to sleep. 

Bucky's slumped over the kitchen table, head resting on his folded arms. His hair is longer than it was when he left, curling over his ears. He looks skinnier too, stretched thin. Clint shuffles towards him and folds himself over Bucky's back. 

"Hey," he mumbles. Bucky reaches back and pats his head. He smells like dirt and sweat and Bucky. Clint's missed him. It's been a long, restless two weeks. "How'd it go?"

"Took down the base, but didn't get there in time to salvage the data," Bucky says. His fingers curl in Clint's hair, nails scraping against Clint's scalp. He's got the bad habit of petting Clint like a dog, but Clint's not going to complain about it any time soon. "I'm not the computer guy, though, so I shouldn't have to head out of the country again for a little while."

"Good," Clint says, dropping a kiss behind Bucky's ear. He pulls himself away when the coffee timer dings and grabs the pot from the burner. It smells awesome, will _be_ awesome because Bucky actually takes the time to measure the grounds and everything, but Clint wants to head back to bed, and Bucky probably needs the sleep more than he needs the caffeine. Clint puts the pot near the fridge, too lazy to actually dump it out, and drapes himself over Bucky's back again. "Come to bed."

"I need a shower," Bucky says, even as he pushes himself up from the table. Clint wraps his arms around Bucky's shoulders and jumps. Bucky catches him under the thighs without even thinking about it. Clint likes that, likes that Bucky can read his moves even when Clint's not telegraphing. 

"I need your dick and more sleep," Clint says. He kicks his heels against Bucky's thighs and bites at his throat. His skin is salty, and he really does need a shower, but Clint's been celibate for two weeks and it feels wrong not to at least try for sex. 

"Anyone ever tell you you're a real romantic?" Bucky asks. He aims for the bedroom, Clint's weight not even slowing him down. Clint doesn't have to tell him that it's a turn on, because everything Bucky does is a turn on for him. Clint's easy. He's never claimed to be anything but. 

"I love you?" Clint presses his face into the sweaty mess of Bucky's hair and squeezes his thighs around Bucky's waist. 

"You love my dick," Bucky says. Clint grins. 

"It's one of your many fantastic qualities that I have missed," he agrees. When Bucky reaches the bed, he flips Clint over onto the mattress. It squeaks something awful, headboard banging against the wall and feet dragging against the hardwood. Clint grins up at Bucky upside down. God, he's missed him. 

"I hope you're not expecting anything athletic tonight," Bucky says as he collapses onto the bed. The frame squeaks again. One day it's going to give out on them and they're going to be so, so screwed. "No sleep on the ride back."

"Poor baby," Clint says. He rolls onto his side and lays his hand flat across Bucky's stomach. He's warm and familiar and solid, his muscles twitching under Clint's palm. "What happened to that thing where super soldiers don't need sleep?"

"Steve's a liar and you should stop listening to him," Bucky says. He trails his fingers over the back of Clint's wrist, up across his bare bicep and over the shell of his ear. He's still fascinated by Clint's hearing aids. When Clint had explained them to him all that time ago, he'd spent hours examining them. 

All the technology in the world, all the technology _inside him_ , and he'd been stuck on them. It's flattering in a way Clint won't admit to.

"You talking smack about Captain America?" Clint asks. He tips his head to give Bucky better access. Bucky's fingers are still cold from outside, the metal catching a bit on Clint's hair. Tony keeps saying he can upgrade Bucky's arm, make it a little less USSR and a little more USA, but Bucky won't let him near it. Clint doesn't blame him. 

"He used to scam vendors," Bucky says, his fingers moving down across Clint's shoulder blade and coming to a stop at the small of Clint's back. "They'd get a look at this sick, skinny kid and figure he wasn't smart enough to yank their stuff."

"You lie," Clint says. He lifts up, bracing his weight on Bucky's stomach, and squints down at him. Steve's over a lot, eating Clint's food and playing his video games, and Clint can't quite connect that guy to the one who apparently shoplifted. " _Captain America_."

" _Steve Rogers_ ," Bucky counters. He smiles softly, pulling Clint back down against his chest. Clint throws a leg over Bucky's thighs and squirms until he's on top of him. "I thought you missed my dick. Why are we talking about Steve?"

"Maybe I want the option of another dick," Clint says. He realizes he's made a terrible mistake when he tries to get a hand under Bucky's shirt. Removing it means removing himself, and that's not happening until way later. "One that doesn't tell lies about America's sweetheart."

"You don't get options," Bucky says. He rocks his hips up, his half-hard cock digging into Clint's hip. Arousal curls in Clint's stomach. "You signed on for the long haul with this one, Barton."

Clint snorts. He finally gives in and ducks down to brush his lips over Bucky's. He's missed sex, Christ he's missed sex, but he's missed this more. Kissing Bucky is like being home- okay, so he's _already_ home, but it's more than just a place. Kissing Bucky is like all the pieces being put back together the right way after being shuffled up. 

They stay like that for a long time, kissing slow and sweet, refamiliarizing themselves. Clint tugs at Bucky's hair, nips at his lower lip. The scrape of Bucky's beard against his jaw makes him shiver. It'll be gone in the morning and Clint's going to enjoy it while it lasts. 

One of Bucky's hands slide down to grope at Clint's ass, pressing him down. Clint groans and lets his head drop against Bucky's shoulder. He rolls his hips, his cock rubbing against Bucky's through his boxers and Bucky's khakis. He wants to be naked, wants to crawl down and give Bucky a welcome home blowjob, but he can't make himself pull away. 

Bucky meets his rhythm, metal arm wrapped around Clint's back to keep him close, the other hand still planted firmly on Clint's ass. Clint hasn't dry humped anyone for a long, long time, and he wonders why he ever stopped. His bare chest rubs nicely against Bucky's shirt, the cotton almost too much against his nipples. 

"I missed you," Bucky says against the top of his head. He spreads his thighs and Clint slips between them. Clint thrusts harder, still sleep slow. He wants this to last forever. Bucky's always tender when he gets back after being away for awhile, hangs on like he's afraid to let go. Clint never calls him out on it. He understands. 

"I missed you, too, jackass," Clint says, breath catching at the back of his throat. Bucky's hand slides under the waistband of Clint's boxers, his fingers stroking the crack of Clint's ass. One finds his hole, teasing over it without the promise of anything more. 

"Want to fuck you," Bucky says, hips jerking up hard. Clint's cock twitches at the thought of it. He wants that now that it's on the table, wants to climb back up and ride Bucky until neither one of them can move, but his body isn't working with him. 

"Might fall asleep if you do." Clint arches back against Bucky's hand and kisses the soft skin in front of him. They've got time. When they're both well rested and Bucky's washed the worst of the mission grime off of him, Clint's going to enforce a no-leaving-the-bedroom rule for the day. "Not- ah- not super sexy." Bucky laughs. He presses his fingertip into the first knuckle and twists it. It's a bit too dry, pinches a little as Clint rocks down on it, but Clint _does not care_. 

"Aw, baby, you don't- don't have to try to be sexy for me," Bucky says. His arm is crushing Clint's chest, a sure sign that he's getting close. Clint draws in a short breath, already going a little dizzy, and grinds down harder. 

"I love you," Clint gasps out, face buried against Bucky's chest. It's always easier to say when Bucky's not looking straight at him. Bucky swears and flips them over, the world turning into a black blur. 

Bucky holds him down, hips driving against Clint's, eyes dark and mouth open. He's fucking incredible, fucking _gorgeous_ , and Clint _loves him so much_. Bucky wraps a hand around the back of Clint's neck and yanks him up into a kiss, more teeth and tongue than technique. 

The sound Bucky makes when he comes is indescribable. He goes still, mouth slack against Clint's jaw, crushing Clint against his chest. Clint's so close, his balls drawn up tight and his cock _aching_ , but he can't move, can't quite get there yet-

Bucky stuffs his right hand between them and grabs Clint's cock through his boxers, squeezing. He bites down on Clint's throat, sharp spikes of pain shooting straight down to Clint's dick, and everything explodes. Clint jerks against him, fighting against the claustrophobic little space Bucky's left him, and moans. 

He slumps against the mattress, satisfaction settling in bone deep. He grunts when Bucky collapses on top of him. They made a critical mistake somewhere. They're almost the same height, but Bucky's got at least sixty pounds on him. Clint should probably ask him to move, but he kind of likes the breathless, heavy cage he's in. 

"I will give your dick the proper attention it deserves when I wake up," Clint mumbles. He's not moving until there's a call to assemble or Lucky demands to go on a walk, whichever one comes first. "Sleep now."

"I love you, too, asshole," Bucky says. He kisses the sore spot on Clint's throat and settles down. Clint still can't breathe, but it's okay.


End file.
